Mama Gets Trashed (A Mace Bauer Mystery) by Deborah Sharp Page B

coffee.
    “It’s not like I’m interested in the case. I didn’t even know the woman. I’m just curious how she wound up like she did. Dressed like that? Strangled?’’
    When Carlos didn’t answer, I lifted the top off the sugar bowl a nd peered inside. It needed more sugar. No surprise. He was as big
of a sweet freak as I was.
    “And now,’’ I continued, “with Kenny cheating? It just makes me wonder the kinds of things people hide; even people you see every day.’’
    Carlos put his cup down. “Everybody is hiding something, niña .’’
    “I’m not. What you see is what you get with me.’’
    He gave a short laugh. “Really? You may think of yourself as no- nonsense and straightforward, but you’re a bundle of hidden motives and contradictions.’’
    “I am not!’’ I said, insulted.
    “Are too.’’
    “For example?’’
    He brushed a bit of hair from my face; caressed my cheek. “Just look at how long it took you to admit you wanted to be with me.’’
    “Ha! I think I made it pretty clear I wanted to be with you, almost from the first minute I saw you. Well, as soon as you let Mama out of jail, anyway.”
    “I’m not talking about sex.’’
    “Really? That’s too bad.’’
    He smiled—that slow, sultry smile that always knocked me off balance. “Well, we can talk about sex.’’ Holding gently to my wrist, he raised my left hand. The light over the kitchen table caught the diamond on the engagement ring. “But only if you admit first you played games and kept secrets before you accepted this.’’
    I was silent, watching the ring as it sparkled and gleamed. The sight, a symbol of our commitment, still gave me a thrill. But now it was tinged with another emotion, some niggling fear that burrowed like a tick into my happiness.
    It was Kenny’s fault for hurting my sister. For betraying her love. I’d always looked up to the two of them as a perfect couple, everything a long and happy marriage should be. If he could cheat on Maddie, anything could go wrong with any couple. Even Carlos and me.
    “Mace?’’ He released my wrist. “You were going to confess?’’
    The question in his voice brought me back to the kitchen table, to the present. To the future, with Carlos.
    “Okay, I admit it. I wasn’t entirely upfront about my feelings for you. I’m not even sure I was telling the truth to myself.’’
    “Now, that’s what I like to hear, you admitting to having a bundle of secrets!’’
    His kiss was slow; sweet. When we drew apart, he traced the line of my lips with his finger. He continued, following a well-traveled trail down my chin, along my neck and down, down, to the buttons of the shirt I’d borrowed. I melted. He moaned.
    “And now … ” His fingers were performing magic beneath the cotton fabric of the shirt. “Now, I think we can talk about sex.’’
    Threading my fingers into his thick hair, I pulled his face to my breasts.
    “Talk?’’ I said. “That’s all? You know, we wouldn’t want anyone to accuse us of being all talk and no action.’’
    With that, we got down to action.
    eleven

    Morning sunlight streamed through the window in Carlos’s kitchen. He whistled, scrambling eggs on the stove. I handed him the bowl of cheddar cheese I’d grated. Carefully, he extracted small pinches and sprinkled it over the eggs so that no section got more or less than any other section. I grinned at him.
    “It’s not surgery, Carlos. I usually just toss it all in there. It gets scrambled up anyway.’’
    “Anything worth doing is worth doing correctly.’’
    “Right.’’
    “Exactly. That’s what I said.’’
    “No, the saying is … ”
    Right , correctly . What difference did it make? Maybe the idiom was off a tad, but the meaning was clear. I lined up little slices of cherry tomatoes across the eggs, as neat as columns of numbers. I was rewarded with a knowing smile from Carlos.
    “Now you’re getting the hang of it.’’
    I set the table